Murder at Midnight: A Witches of Keyhole Lake Short Novel (Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries Book 13)

by Tegan Maher

  That explained the fancy manicure, though I doubted she ever walked around with less-than-perfect anything.

  “You can’t do that to yourself,” Hunter said. “There’s no way to know what happened. Maybe she went to the bathroom and somebody dragged her outside. I can’t see any other reason for her to be out there. She didn’t smoke did she?”

  Regulars playing pool or darts used the back door frequently to step outside for a smoke because it was closer and they didn’t have to wade through the crowd to get to the front door.

  She curled her nose. “Absolutely not. She used to, but she quit five years ago and wouldn’t even go around people who smoked because she said she didn’t need the temptation, especially when she was drinkin’.”

  “I’ve spoken to several people who had problems with repairs,” Hunter said. “Can you think of any tenants who were angry enough to do this?”

  Noreen rolled her eyes. “Probably. Those people are unreasonable trash. They expect everything done right now. They don’t understand that it takes time to get a repairman out there.”

  I raised a brow, taking exception to both her lackadaisical attitude and her condescension. “I hardly think expecting to have things like air conditioning, hot water heaters, or a broken window fixed immediately is unreasonable. Those are basic necessities, and they’re paying good money to live there. Isn’t it her job to make sure everything stays in good repair?”

  She waved a hand. “Like I said, it takes time.”

  “Back to the question,” Hunter said, shooting me a warning glance. He knew me well enough to know that my tolerance was about depleted. “Do you think any of those tenants were upset enough to kill her?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “It’s hard to tell what people will do.” She tilted her head. “May I ask why you’re still out looking for suspects? Barbie called me after she had her run-in with that Miranda girl who was found standing over her body. It seems like an open-and-shut case to me.” Her chin wobbled again, and tears formed in her eyes. “Poor Barbie deserves justice.”

  “And that’s why I’m still asking questions,” Hunter replied. “She won’t get justice if the wrong person goes to jail for it.”

  Noreen wiped a finger under her eye and sniffed. “I hate to say anything, but she got in a fight with Frank Friday. He was spittin’ mad because she’d asked him to fix a water heater instead of replacing it. We were already over budget for the month, but he was determined to just chuck out the old one. I think he wanted to install a new one so he could charge a higher rate.”

  “Is that standard for him? Does he usually balk at doing smaller repairs?” Hunter asked.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes. He was of the mind that it was easier to replace things than fix them, so I suppose he did balk some at it, though. That was what the fight was about. That and I think he’s the jealous type. He coulda gotten mad when he heard we were going out.”

  It wouldn’t have been the first time a man killed a woman out of jealousy.

  Hunter nodded. “Is there anything else you can tell us that you think might help?”

  Noreen shook her head. “Not that I can think of, Sheriff.”

  “If anything pops to mind, here’s my card. Please, call me any time.”

  “Of course,” she said, taking it, then paused. “This wasn’t the first time she and Miranda had butted heads, just so you know. Miranda dated Frank way back when, and I think maybe she still had a thing for him.”

  I sighed because as bad as I hated to admit it, Miranda was looking more guilty by the minute.

  Chapter 14

  “What did you think?” Hunter said when we were back in the truck.

  “I think she was lying about Barbie making her a partner, but that’s the only time my meter dinged. I also think the two of them were perfectly matched. I’m surprised they’re not friends with Olivia and her crew. They’re cut from the same cloth.”

  He nodded. “That they are. I gotta say, I’m a little worried about the fact that Miranda dated Frank. She never mentioned that, and I’d think she would have.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that doesn’t do anything toward clearing her, for sure. I think we should go talk to Frank. You think he’s working?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No, I talked to him this morning. He said he’d be puttering around his house working on a renovation if I needed him again. He lives down by the north end of the lake.”

  “Then I think that’s where we should go next.”

  “What’s that up ahead?” I asked a few minutes later. An old green pickup was parked half in the road and half out of it, and the driver’s door was wide open. Two old men, Abram Grady and Leonard Barker, were screaming at each other. Abram had a death grip on a crowbar, and Leonard was slapping a hammer against his palm.

  “That’s it!” Hunter exclaimed, pulling in behind the pickup and slamming the truck into park. “I’ll be right back.”

  He got out and strode around the front toward the men, his brows drawn down and his lips pressed together. I jumped out and followed him. No way was I gonna miss this.

  “What’s going on here?” Hunter barked as he hopped the ditch and climbed the few steps up the other side. He didn’t quite make it over without squishing down into the mud, though. He glanced down at his muddy boot and scowled. I knew him well enough to know that what might have been mild irritation at the situation had now ratcheted up to annoyance.

  “What’s goin’ on is that he’s tearin’ out my fence!” Leonard said, his face mottled.

  Both men were old enough that if they didn’t calm down, they were more likely to die from a coronary than by each others’ hand.

  “It’s my fence!” Abram snapped back. “So I can tear it down if’n I want.”

  “Abram, you know that’s not true,” Hunter said, hands out and down in the universal sign to chill out. “The judge said to wait to have the land resurveyed.”

  “I ain’t got time for all that, and my lawyer said I’m in the right. That survey says this is mine and they done the measurin’ twice just to make sure. I wanna run a road up through here so’s I can haul hay to the southeast pasture from the road instead of ruttin’ up the grass between it and the barn and that fence is in the way.”

  “Is it really though?” Hunter asked, his tone tired.

  “Yeah, it is,” Abram said, then pointed to the ditch with his crowbar. “Otherwise, I’ll have to put a new culvert in to cross the ditch from the road. Ain’t no need to do that when there’s a perfectly good one right there!” He pointed with his crowbar to a culvert that was solidly on the other side of the fenceline and in front of a gate that crossed a shale path just wide enough for a tractor.

  “That’s my culvert,” Leonard said, his bushy gray eyebrows drawing down in a murderous glare. “I put it in two years ago along with the shale so’s I could do the same thing. I spent good money to give me access to my own land and now he’s tryin’ to steal it!”

  “Listen,” Hunter snapped, “You’re grown men who’ve lived together peacefully for what ... sixty years? I should not have to come out here and deal with you like you’re toddlers. You put down the crowbar,” he said, jabbing a finger at Abram, then turned to Leonard. “And you put down the hammer. Both of you go home, now! Once you’ve come to your senses, sit down and figure out somethin’ that works for you both. I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t make me come back out here. The next time I do, I’m haulin’ you both to jail. Your wives, too. If they can’t manage to be civil long enough to pick out a head of lettuce, I’ll bar ’em both from the grocery store and you two can live on beef stew from a can for a while. See how that suits you.”

  He slammed his arms across his chest and glared at them. The two old men just stared at him for a few seconds, then Abram tossed his hammer into a five-gallon bucket full of fencing supplies and Leonard made his way back toward his truck. They exchanged one more glare before Leonard climbed in and slammed his door.

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Leonard said, his eyes downturned.

  Hunter sighed. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Leo. You and Abe go back six decades. Is a twenty-foot strip of land really worth flushing all that town the toilet?”

  Abe rubbed the back of his sunburned neck. “I reckon it ain’t.”

  “Yeah, I reckon it ain’t either,” Hunter replied. “Give him time to calm down, then work with him. Why can’t you put a second gate or cattle guard on up the fenceline so you can both use the culvert?”

  Abe nodded. “That might work.”

  “If not, I’m sure you can come up with somethin’ else,” Hunter replied. “I’m leaving. We’re good?”

  “We’re good,” Abe replied, then picked up his bucket and headed toward his tractor.”

  Hunter watched him go, then turned to me and shook his head. “I swear, if you’d told me four years ago that I’d be spending half my time moderating land disputes and settling complaints about where somebody can hang their fine washables to dry, I’d have called you crazy.”

  I smiled as we crossed back over the ditch to the truck. “Yet here you are.”

  “Yep,” he said, grinning. “Here I am.”

  Chapter 15

  “So,” I said on the ride there, deciding that now was as good a time as ever to tell him about the new gift fate had thrust upon me. “I have something to tell you.”

  I wrung my hands and shifted my weight, avoiding eye contact as I figured out how to tell him I was apparently a psychic now, too. I was still hoping it was just a weird phase, so sharing it wasn’t the easiest thing for me to do.

  “Just spit it out,” he said, anxiety etching his features. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

  I pulled in a deep breath and blew it out through my cheeks. “I’m having visions.”

  He shot me a sideways glance. “Of what, sugarplums?”

  I scowled at him. “I’m serious. Twice now, I’ve had flashes of something, and both times, it’s come true.”

  He sighed. “Well, that’s not as bad as what I thought you were going to say. I was worried you were getting cold feet or something.”

  “So me being psychic is better than if I had wedding jitters?” I didn’t feel like he was grasping the full importance of the development.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “You’re a witch, and you’ve been developing weird powers ever since Shelby got herself stuck in that snow globe. It’s nothing new. Is it going to be a pain? Maybe, but it’s something I’m sure you’ll manage. After all, you learned how to manage stopping time and blowing things up and reading minds, and all the other new gifts you’ve picked up. I’m sure you’ll get a grasp on this, too.”

  “Don’t you wonder why I got this particular gift?”

  He shrugged. “Does it really matter? Would knowing why you got it change anything?”

  “No, I suppose not. I guess between it and the weird dreams, I’m just rattled.” I plucked at the hem of my shorts. “It just feels like one more change, you know what I mean?”

  He reached over and took my hand. “I do, but we’ll manage. You’ll manage. You always do. Wanna talk about the dreams?”

  I shook my head. “I really don’t.”

  “Then you don’t have to. But know I’m here if you change your mind.”

  I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, and I do know that. I also know that you’re amazing and I’m lucky to have you.”

  He preened as he flicked on his blinker to turn onto a well-maintained driveway. “I know. I’m just all that and a bag of chips.”

  I smacked his arm and grinned. “I don’t know about all that. Don’t go getting a big head.”

  I thought about talking about a date but decided against it. Solve the murder first, then decide on the rest of our life. A girl had to have priorities.

  Frank’s house was different than what I expected from a man who owned an AC repair business. I’d anticipated a small older house with a couple outbuildings and maybe an old car or two that he tinkered on just for fun. Instead, he had a neat bungalow with nice landscaping and a new aluminum garage big enough to hold at least four or five cars. A sixties-model GTO gleamed from inside of it, and two four-wheelers sat off to the side. I couldn’t see anything else, but I imagined there were probably more toys in there.

  A lean, tanned middle-aged man wearing jeans and a work shirt sat in a rocker on the porch, a cold beer beside him.

  We climbed out of the truck, and I followed Hunter across the gravel drive to the steps.

  “Frank?” Hunter asked.

  The man nodded. “I reckon you’re the sheriff,” he said, then turned to me, his gaze questioning.

  “Noelle Flynn,” I said. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  He nodded once, then looked out over the yard, his expression pensive.

  “I don’t know anything else, but I’ll be glad to answer any questions you might have. Want a beer? Or a Coke? I reckon you’re on duty and can’t do a beer.”

  “I’d love a Coke,” Hunter replied, and I nodded.

  “C’mon in, then,” Frank said, motioning for us to follow him. “Just look over the mess. I’m remodeling the living room. The stones on the fireplace were a mess, so that’s my current project. I just finished the drywall and ain’t got a chance to clean that mess up yet, either. I figured I’d do it all at once when I’m finished.”

  We followed him inside. He was right—the place was sort of a mess, but only because sheets covered all the furniture, and everything seemed to be coated in a fine layer of white dust. The kitchen was in the back of the house, and unlike the living room, it was neat as a pin. He’d apparently started the remodel there because all the appliances sitting on the gleaming black countertop were brand new along with the refrigerator. Four black ladder-back stools sat on one side of a kitchen island, and he waved toward them for us to take a seat.

  “This is great,” I said, taking a seat on one stool while Hunter sat on another. My island was one of the things I liked most about my kitchen, and his was every bit as nice.

  “Thanks,” he replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “This place needed a lot of work when I bought it, but I got it for dirt cheap. I’ve fixed it up as I’ve gotten the money to do it. I’d rather take my time and do it right than just go cheap and do it all at once.”

  He pulled two bottles of Coke and a fresh beer from the fridge and handed the Cokes across to us, then leaned back against the counter on the other side.

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “We just talked to Noreen Hinkle, and she said a couple things that raised some questions,” Hunter replied, taking a long pull from his drink.

  “Shoot,” Frank said.

  “She said you two got in a fight Friday, and another witness corroborated it.”

  He nodded. “We sure did. It had been comin’ to a head for a while. I don’t like to do anything half-assed, and she was bad about that. That woman could make a penny scream for mercy when it came to fixin’ things. It’s frustrating on a couple levels. First, I think if a hot water heater needs replaced, you replace it. Second, repairs take longer than replacements a lot of the time, and if they’re just a patch, it means I’m gonna be back in a week or a month to fix it again. Tenants get cranky, and I have to listen to it from them. Truth be told, I can’t blame ’em. I’m sure they’re probably more tired of dealing with it than I am fixin’ it over and over.”

  “Was it something in particular that you got in a fight about, or was it just general? We know you bought parts to fix a hot water heater, and then of course there’s Miranda’s AC.”

  He shook his head, and the fine lines around his eyes deepened. “No, it was the AC, mostly. I’d sent my assistant out to check it. He didn’t find anything wrong with the thermostat or the inside handler, but when he checked outside, it was iced over, and the motor was seized. It needed to be replaced, but she told me to thaw it out and make due. There’s no making
due in that situation. Those buildings were built in the early eighties. It’s about time for the units to start going bad. She won’t invest in regular maintenance, so it’s not like I can catch problems before they go clear south.”

  “I assume from the fact that people said you stormed out that you didn’t get the answer you were looking for,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No, so I told her I wasn’t going to keep wasting my time hobblin’ things along. I can make more on solo clients than I can from doin’ that.”

  “Noreen says maybe you were fighting over her going to Fancy’s last night,” Hunter said. I watched Frank’s face for signs of anger or deception, and I turned my meter up full blast.

  “Sheriff, I learned a long time ago that jealousy don’t do nothin’ but eat you up inside. If I was worried about her goin’ out, then she’s not the right woman for me and I wouldn’t have been wastin’ her time.”

  That, of course, brought up the obvious question. He seemed to be a decent guy, which was the exact opposite of Barbie Lee.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but you don’t exactly seem like her type.”

  One side of his mouth curled up in a half-grin. “Yeah, you wouldn’t think so, would you? But the truth is, she wasn’t horrible aside from bein’ greedy, and at my age, I thought maybe I could work her through that. She was raised poor, so I figured if I could give her some security, that might abate some. Besides, I didn’t know that about her when we started datin’, and it just got to where it was easier to deal with it than to scrap the relationship and start over.”

  “How long were you together?” Hunter asked.

  “Only about six months,” he said. “And I only started contractin’ to do her stuff about three months ago. I’d been doin’ ad-hoc repairs for her for a while, but then her regular guy quit—I know now why—and she asked if I’d pick it up.”